


For He Is No Man

by childofdrought



Category: Dishonored (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, F/M, tw: allusions to rape, tw: child neglect, tw: gore
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-03
Updated: 2013-05-17
Packaged: 2017-12-10 06:22:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/782821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/childofdrought/pseuds/childofdrought
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They say that the Outsider is various, for there are seven gates by which he may enter a man’s heart, and seventy kinds of spirits which live on and beneath the earth and for Corvo his father is but one of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I’d like to thank my awesomely supportive beta NeverwinterThistle for kicking my butt into getting this finished and being fab at making everything work!

His birth is a stain on his whole family, and the townsfolk never let him forget it. It is the first tale he remembers, told in mutters by spitting mothers who hoard their children from him when all he wants to do is play.

He is told of how his mother, his once beautiful, noble but shamefully adventurous mother had strayed away from her father’s house to explore the forests outside their town. He is told of how she went missing and had all the men searching for her for days before in the middle of the night she came stumbling, wailing, into town with her fine dress torn and covered in blood; some of the more spiteful whisper that it was not all her own.

They tell him of the tale she weaved: of her missing days in-between her screams and sobs, of a horrible man like thing that lurks in the woods, (an agent of the Outsider, the more faithful of them immediately decide). She only has time to speak in vague terms of the horrible things it had done to her before her sisters-in-law manage to drag her back into the family's estate but they could not hide what it had done to her when her belly swelled and she remained unwed.

If it had been just that, he sometimes thinks, then maybe they would not hate him so, but his uncles would never leave the idea that some madman in the woods had sullied their sister unpunished. They had continued the search, this time for the man, for days until they found it.

He says it now because whilst it clearly possessed a man’s body and a man’s virility, to do what it did to his mother, there is nothing else man-like about it.

This part of the story he does not hear from townsfolk, or at least he does not hear the truth of it from them because in a town this small there are always rumours, but instead from restless nights pressed up against the parlour wall listening to his uncles' drunken haunted voices.

At first… At first they had not known what it was they found. The shout of disgust from one of them, (they can never agree who saw it first), was what brought them all running.

When they all gathered around they wondered how they could have missed it; the stench that came from the corpse was truly putrid. They tutted and muttered about another possible victim, some vagabond that had run afoul of whoever it was had violated their dearest sister. They did not suspect it to be the culprit yet and who could blame them?

The corpse was shrunken, dried out as though it had lain beneath the harsh sun for days. Who would suspect such a thing?

It was only when one of them suggested it be brought back to town for the poor soul's much belated last rites and burial, (for having an unburied corpse so near the town would be bad luck, an invitation to the Outsider), that the first sign of trouble appeared.

Some of them say it was the birds going silent that alerted them. Some of them say it was the swarm of ants that suddenly amassed, frenzied, scattering over the corpse and across the forest floor; they moved like maddened beasts, fleeing out of sight with unnatural haste.

All agree on one moment though. Who could forget it, even to the tiniest detail? Who could dispute it as _the moment_?

Corvo thinks that he can feel the shudders of disgust and horror in their voices in his bones when they speak with a hallowed hush of _the moment_ … The moment they knew they had found what their sister had raved of, the moment they knew what monster had contributed his seed. When he is feeling bitter, when he is feeling spiteful, he names it the moment they all knew they would never love him, never name him family. To be a bastard was one thing, to be the offspring of _it_ was another.

It had looked so harmless, it _had_ been harmless. But when the last ant disappeared...

Well. It started with just a _twitch_. So small, so easy to have been missed but with such a queer display like that of the ants his uncles had been on high alert. That small twitch had developed until it was a spasm comparable to that of a man waking and finding his limb had fallen to sleep and was trying to shake the pinpricks out.

They often pause in their recollections here; Corvo sometimes imagines he can hear some of them _cry_. But men like his uncles do not show such weakness.

When they do continue, on the nights that they do (for sometimes he does not hear another sound out of them for night but those of bottles opening and men drinking), their retelling is _disjointed._

They speak of fingernails like claws, of the _unnatural_ strength of its flimsy limbs, of how its eyes glowed with Void fire in the twilight.

They whisper of the uncles he no longer has, of their blood shining on the forest floor, of how their flesh coated everything, of how the creature _devoured_ them. Of how it would have devoured them all had not been for their baby brother, their baby brother who they had regulated to torch holder who had struck out with his fire to set alight the creature's dry flesh like the kindling it resembled.

He thinks this act sounds awfully brave of a man who cannot even leave his room now, and flinches at the sight of a mere candle flame.

They always finish these nights the same though and it is these words that haunt Corvo more than any other. For if he could pretend, even for just a moment that it was just some random monster, some abomination of natures he could perhaps deny his own nature. His own unnaturalness. But he cannot, cannot deny how his father was one of _his_.

“The Outsider is various, for there are seven gates by which he may enter a man’s heart, and seventy kinds of spirits which live on and beneath the earth…”


	2. Chapter 2

Corvo could hear the crinkle of parchment through the open window into his Grand Papa’s study from his place in the garden beds. He knew if anyone caught him, curled up against the warm brick, half dug into the earth, with the branches of the bushes curling above him like a cocoon to cast their precious shadows, he would be in trouble for potentially ruining another set of clothes (never mind that his cousins did worse to their outfits daily). However, the safety of his spot was too much to resist as the lethargy that daylight brought him soaked heavy in his limbs.

Half in and out of sleep, he almost did not register the discussion within, but tense voices and barely restrained shouting was something he had been taught since birth to watch out for.

“…Those damn idiots in Bastillian can’t do this to us!” That was his oldest uncle; Corvo knew he would be the next head of the family. His presence in his Grand Papa’s study was not unusual.

“They can do whatever they bloody well please, and you know it son. We all owe our dues to the Empire.”

“But we are a minor house! Barely noble! Should they not take a son from one of the others if they wish to make a statement with this…. this peace gift!”

His Grand Papa’s derisive snort seemed unusually loud to Corvo’s ears, and he began to shift restlessly, slowly waking despite the sun’s height. Something about this conversation did not sit right in his young mind.

“It’s because of him isn’t it?” The venom in his Uncle’s voice left no question as to whom he meant.

There was a loud thump from within. Corvo assumed his uncle had punched the wall again, as he often did when his anger got the better of him.

For several moments nothing was said, and the sound of heavy breathing filling the afternoon air. Finally his uncle spoke up again. His tone was not one Corvo had ever heard before, but it left him feeling apprehensive. “We should send him.”

“Are you mad?”

“No! Don’t you see, he has been a curse upon this house since the moment he was conceived! But if we do this… He shall be someone else’s curse.”

Corvo suddenly did not feel well. His breath was hitching, and the ones that he did take seemed so loud he was surprised neither man inside had reacted to it. His vision, which was already poor in the daylight, seemed to blur and swim.

“He would not just be anyone’s! He would be the Emperor’s!”

“So?”

“…I forget that wife of yours is from Morley.”

“Just think on it Father, have you not wanted this chance ever since she refused to take the herbs?”

“…It does free us from having to give up any of the other boys.”

Corvo could stand to hear no more and, damning subtlety, he leapt from his spot and sprinted off, away from the house and away from men who could discuss sending him away from the only home he had ever known so easily.

—-

“Go away Alessia,” Corvo pleaded, voice muffled from where his head was buried in his knees.

“Ah, little bird, what are you doing crying out here?” Her shoes crunched loudly in the autumnal leaf litter as she squatted beside him, one hand bracing herself against the ash tree whilst the other tried to coax Corvo’s face up.

She tutted when she finally did, hand disappearing into the folds of her dress to produce a handkerchief that she used to try and clean up the tears and snot that covered his face.

“Who has you crying like this, little bird? Is it my idiot of a twin again?”

“S’not Alessio.” Corvo croaked out, voice sore from his crying. His oldest cousin might be unkind to him on occasion, but he was no worse than any of the other boys and Corvo did not wish to bring Alessia’s wrath down on him for no reason. 

Alessia could be so overprotective of him at times. If it was nice to have at least one family member care for him, but he was less enthused about the trouble it brought them both when she lashed out within the adults' hearing.

Alessia sighed, sliding down to sit properly before wrapping her arms around him, tugging at Corvo until he gave in and slumped against her.

Feeling the warmth of her body soak into him, and with the smell of freshly baked bread that always surrounded her smothering out everything else, Corvo couldn’t help but remember what she had told him about the first time she saw him.

The adults hadn’t let anyone see him for the first week of his life apparently, and none of his cousins could work out why; he had not been born early and there were no physicians called, so he was not sick. Alessia and Alessio had been the sole exception. As the oldest at six they had been able to see the adults' anger and fear during his mother's pregnancy, and had picked up on how those emotions had already soured to a type of resentment and hate after his birth.

Corvo knew Alessio had taken those emotions to heart, made them his own. But Alessia? She said the moment her eyes had connected with his from where he was nestled in his mother's arms she’d fallen in love. She called everyone that treated him as anything less than the most precious child she regarded him as an idiot of the worst kind.

Corvo let out a strangled sob, Alessia softly hushing him as she smoothed down his hair in a familiar calming gesture.

He shook his head though, pulling back, because if her papa had his way Corvo would never get to hear her call anyone an idiot again and, and….

“They’re sending me away, Alessia!” he finally blurted out in one breath, trying to push down more sobs.

As this news registered with her Alessia’s face went curiously blank and for a second he swore he could see purple swirl in her eyes before she clutched him closer. “They want to send my little bird away? From his only home? From me? No. Do not worry little bird, I will not allow it.”

“But it was your Papa’s idea, Alessia! If it is not me it will be one of the othe-“

“I do not care! They can send Alessio for all I care! But they will not send you! I promise you Corvo!”

For a second, as she buried her own face in his hair, Corvo allowed himself to believe her promise.

\---

Later that night, long after she'd put her little bird to bed, Alessia stood outside her father's door, his supper in her arms. Knocking, she stepped inside at his grunt, walking up to where he sat hunched over his desk to place the platter of breads, cheese and cold meat at his elbow.

Uncovering the butter she took a small knob, smearing it as slowly as she could whilst she peered at the letter her father was carefully penning. Trying to read without being notice was a difficult skill to possess when one was not expected to ever learn to read at all, it was only in this that her brother proved his usefulness.

She paused suddenly in her nightly task as she picked up the key words of his missive, her hands reflexively tightening about the whalebone handle of the knife as her breathe hissed out through her teeth, the only warning of the flash of rage she felt before she struck out and stabbed the knife straight into the middle of the letter, ruining paper and ink.

Standing her ground, body tense, as her father pushed back from his desk and stood up with an expression of alarm and anger on his face she gritted out one word, "Father."

"Alessia what the void do you think your doi-"

"Why are you trying to send my little bird away?" she interrupted with little care for the usual courtesy she was meant to show her father.

He stilled, face darkening. "Alessia. We have talked about this, what we care to do with that boy is none of your busine-"

"NO! I stood by whilst you let everyone in this house treat him like vermin because it was not my business! I stood by whilst you made sure all my brothers and cousins had a craft secured but not him because it was not my business! But this is too far father! TOO FAR!"

"ALESSIA! CEASE!" he roared back at her, grabbing her arm harshly and holding it and the fork she had been brandishing at him away from them both. She pulled, enraged and surprised for she could not remember picking the implement up.

His other hand reached out, shaking her shoulders until she stopped her struggles against them. Voice low and dark he stared into her eyes, trying to force her to understand his will.

"No Alessia, what is too far is that I have allowed your obsession with that boy to continue. I was going to wait a week to give us proper time to prepare, but obviously we cannot. Tomorrow you will wake and prepare as normal and then you will wake him and send him on his way to Bastillian." 

"But-"

"AH! Do not protest! In time you will realize this was for the best daughter, when whatever spell you are under is cleared from your mind. Is this not after all giving him the trade you claim we where denying him? The Emperor's house will care for him, Corvo shall not want." He pattered her cheek, trying to soothe her.

This time when she pulled from him he did not resist, letting her turn and run out of the room with tears upon her face.

He sighed, running a frustrated hand through his hair as he went to wake his brothers. They had a long night of preparations for tomorrow ahead of them.


	3. Chapter 3

The next morning dawned on a miserable day the likes not usually seen until the depths of coldest winter; having it so early into the autumn did not bode well for the months to come. Pulling his coat tighter around him to ward off the wind, Corvo found his mind wandering to how awful it would be, wondering for how long this year the ground would be too hard with the cold to break and get to the soft warm soil below. He wondered and wondered only to have to clench his eyes as he remembered once again he would not be around to see the winter this year.

As Corvo shuddered at the pain this inspired in him once again the clouds let an ominous rumble, threatening to unleash their fury on their small gathering. A small part of him hoped they would; the coachman was already looking nervous enough about the clouds that if they made good on their promise Corvo might be able to delay this trip just that little bit longer.

Beside him Alessia sighed wistfully, staring at the clouds, as if she too held this wish. Corvo’s mouth twisted bitterly at that, for _he_ wished she’d kept _her_ promise. If she’d just done as she said it would be Alessio here whilst Corvo stayed inside, warm under his covers.

A gritty hand rested on his cheek then, gently forcing him to face her, “I’m sorry little bird. I’ll do whatever I can to get you ho-“

A polite cough interrupted their moment alone, both children turning to face Corvo’s mother who stood almost serenely by the carriage. “Corvo. It is time to depart. Get in the carriage.”

“I was just finishing saying goodbye Aun-“

“Hush dear. Corvo get in.”

Glancing between the two women, Corvo patted the hand that still rested on his cheek before pulling away from Alessia, and making his way over to the carriage. He was just about to step up when his mother’s hand came to rest on his shoulder, startling Corvo into stillness; any contact at all was so unusual from her.

The oddness of the situation was only increased when she reached up and brushed at his cheek, smiling softly.

“Alessia got some dirt on your face, and we wouldn’t want you to take a _speck_ with you, would we?”

Disconcerted in a way he could not define by his mother’s words and smiling face, Corvo merely nodded and pulled himself up into the carriage.

Settling into the seat as his mother shut the door, he turned around too late to ask what made Alessia look so panicked as they rattled on their way.

Watching as the carriage slowly pulled away Corvo’s mother chuckled, rubbing the grit between her fingers. “It was a good attempt girl, but we triple checked him and all his gear; that boy will not be coming back here, and we can claim to have fulfilled our roll.”

The high pitched noise of despair Alessia released as the woman headed inside echoed around the courtyard, drowning out her low whisper, “ _But he was your son_!”

—-

The swaying of the carriage as it trundled down the dirty country roads quickly lulled Corvo to sleep again. He had been awake since the sky had just first been hinting at twilight to prepare for his departure and for a boy of just seven summers to be awake that early was a _trial_. It helped too that it was only in his slumber that he felt he could escape his awful reality for a while longer. For slumber brought dreams and to Corvo dreams brought _freedom_.

In his dreams he was not just his small and still growing body, too fragile and too easily over powered by _everyone_ around him, but all the land he had ever known at once. His nature was two things at once but only in his dreams could he _perceive_ it, perceive how he was at once a small boy and all the shadows that where cast by town or forest. 

Of a usual night he took this chance to spread his wings and fly over forest he could not reach or into homes usually barred to him but this cold morning he found himself not craving the joy of wild wings but instead the comfort of a home rapidly slipping from him. Instead his mind followed the curling link that hummed of _Alessia_ , the only person that felt like _his_ in this dream world where every other human was a curiosity or an intruder. Their shadows did not belong to _him_.

In his dreams she stood before the kitchen bench, angrily kneading the dough for the days bread as Grand Papa always preferred for them to produce their own than rely on any baker. He moved to curl close to her, to curl up in her shadow and bask in her adoration of him as he usually did when upset only for his body to gasp aloud, giving a small pained cry, as the link that let him be two at once jangled and _stretched_.

Outside his dream world the carriage gave a particularly hard bump as the wheels rolled from dirt to bridge, taking him over the river that separated their forest home from the plains. 

In both worlds Corvo _screamed_.

In a kitchen getting further and further away from him another more high pitched scream echoed him as a girl slumped down, slowly staining the dough she had been working red as more voices shouted and came running.

The coachman, hearing one scream but not the other just pursed his lips and carried on.


End file.
